


Sleepsong

by Monkey45214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, Depression, F/M, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucifer's Cage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Touch-Starved, Weechesters, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkey45214/pseuds/Monkey45214
Summary: Sam Winchester has had to redefine the word strangers many times over his life. Actually it was probably more accurate to say he has had to redefine who he can trust over time.OrSam Winchester’s Depressing Life





	Sleepsong

**Author's Note:**

> I got the title from Sleep song from Bastille. I was listening to the song on loop while writing this so I recommend listening it while reading.
> 
> DISCLAIMER  
> I don’t own Supernatural or its characters.

Sam Winchester has had to redefine the word strangers many times over his life. Actually it was probably more accurate to say he has had to redefine who he can trust over time.

Before the flames consumed his dad’s mind and Dean’s hope for a childhood, Sam didn’t have to worry about trust. He woke up when someone came over to him or he needed something. He played with his family. And little Sammy went to sleep with soft kisses and warm smiles alongside his big brother’s chatter. He was blissfully naïve.

After that night, Sam didn’t know how to deal with the upside down world that had become his life. His developing mind didn’t understand the hot and cold of his Dad. One minute there, Dad was there taking care of him, the next he was gone. Dad was surgical in in his affection, just enough to show he cared, but brief enough to plant that seed of touch starvation. He placed his hands in the right places you would see a TV father would, he just did it without the nice words, warm expressions, and with relaxed hands.

The only constant he had was Dean.

Sam could only depend on Dean. Only depend that Dean loved him, without a doubt.

Sure, Sam logically his Dad loves him, but that love feels conditional in some aspects. Dad wants him only if he acts like Dean. Sam isn’t even sure Dad knows how obvious he is in his distaste in how Sam acts. The looks of annoyance when Sam asks questions, the huffs when Sam wants to lug a book to the diner, and the eye rolls when Sam asks Dean to help him. Sam thought Dad had obligatory love for his son, not for Sam personally.

Dean was always there. Of course Dean loved teasing Sam over everything, but he would help Sam whenever Sam would shove aside his pride. If Sam shyly asked Dean to go through flashcards over that weeks vocabulary words, Dean would take the cards and relentless rib him over being a nerd. And it was obvious that Sam always getting A’s on vocabulary tests was a coincidence.

If Sam had nightmares, mostly containing confusing ones with searing heat and metallic milk, he would climb in bed climb into Dean’s bed (or roll over depending on their sleeping arrangements) and wrap his small hand around Dean bigger wrist. Sam knew from experience never to touch anymore. Sam was usually sniffling, trying to get the odd burnt chicken smell out of his nose. Sam’s eyes in particular always hurt after the dreams, maybe it was because of how bright the yellow irises seems to be in the dreams. Yellow has become his least favorite color. Dean never said anything, pretending to be asleep, and Sam was always alone when he woke up.

Dean was Mom, Dad, Brother, and Tutor. Sam would later figure out.  
—-  
KINDERGARTEN

“My Ma made Mac ‘n Cheese last night. She even let me stir!” A little girl in pigtails, Sam can’t put a name to her face. Sam loses track of everyone’s names. He was moving in two days anyway, it was useless.

“No way! My Pa won’t let me help. He won’t even let me hold the peanut butter when he make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like Mama does!” A pouty kid beside her said. His name was Tommy, Sam only remembered because he wouldn’t stop crying when he scraped his knees. It was really annoying, Dean would have made fun of Sam if he did that.

“Well my Mama says that only Mamas and Papas can do the cooking.” Said a quiet girl that only ever played with the scratched up train set.

So Dean must have been either Mama or Papa, right? Otherwise he couldn’t have cooked for Sam and him.   
——  
SECOND GRADE

“Sam could we talk in the hallway for a minute.”

Sam’s head whipped up to the teacher’s face while he processed the question.”Of course, Ms. Null.”

Once they were out in the hallway her kind face seemed to harden. “Now Sam, I have notice you having problems with your spelling test. Have you been working on your words at home like I wanted you to.”

Sam’s face turned pink and he ducked his head to hide under his bangs. “Sorry Ms. Null but my Dad can’t help while he is working.”

Ms. Null’s face softened up again, her voice becoming soothing. “Is there anyone that could tutor you over the words, like give you a practice test.”

“Practice test?”

“The Tutor, whoever that may be for you, reads from a list word by word. You write down the word and at the end you and your Tutor go through at check spelling. Every word missed you write down the word five-“

“Ms. Null, five!”

At this her face crinkles up in silent laughter, making the bags under her eyes look less harsh. “Yes Sam, write down every single word you get wrong five times. It helps your brain and hand remember. After that you continue until you get all the word spelled correctly.”

Ms. Null’s face then became serious, “Sam, you look like you were born with the gift of a big brain. You need to use it, don’t make the mistake of letting it was away. Many people have the ability to be great, but throw it away. Even if you don’t get a job using your brain, learn to use it in that job anyway. It is an amazing part of an amazing boy.”

So Dean became his tutor with his spelling tests. At least until they moved. But Sam held onto Ms. Null’s words. He tried to use his brain in everything and to get better he used the studying technique (he later learned it was called muscle memory) in both school and hunting.

——  
Dad always tried to give Sam advice and criticism whenever he wasn’t away working. But Sam always got frustrated with him because it sounded like a command or a flaw of Sam’s. Dad probably didn’t mean to, but he sounded so goddamn degrading with every word. Dad seems to dig at all of Sam’s vulnerabilities and once Sam works on healing his ever falling self esteem, Dad starts picking at the scabs. All the syllables grating against Sam’s most sensitive nerves until he snaps and another fight starts.

Sam fucking hates fighting with his Dad. Every screaming match is them going in circles. And at the end, Sam is emotionally drained and hurt. He usually wants to go and lick at his metaphorical wounds. But Dad always has salt, those last words he always gets in edgewise to somehow assert his dominance or some shit. It is either a punishment or more scathing words that take the everpresent salt and rub it in. Not just rub, he crushpressdigsmears the salt in the wound.

——-  
And late at night Sam is alone, and he stares up at typically cracked or molded ceiling and wishes he wasn’t there. 

He doesn’t want to deal with his broken Dad, who tries his best to raise them to to survive in the cold world they live in, but fails at being a father in almost every other way. Sometimes Sam thinks he is borderline abusive, but those words never pass his lips. Because that would make it real. And he knows Dean would kick his ass, CPS would break down the door, and he would be even more alone.

He doesn’t want to deal with Dean. Who tries to be perfect, and seems to fucking succeed where Sam can’t. Who is someone who is so smart and also so fucking blind. Who can understand his brother in and out, but can’t see or is ignoring (please don’t let him be ignoring) when Sam just needs the comfort of a hug. Who is so strong, but is so broken that every time he looks the jagged edges dig into Sam’s very soul.

Sam doesn’t want to die. He wants to never have existed. Because as long as Dean is alive, he can’t die. Sam has an itching feeling that if he died, Dean would follow him.

——-  
Dean is so different from Dad in Sam’s mind. Dad is there to make sure Dean has money and to train them. Dean is safe. Dean will take care of anything Sam needs him to. Basically no questions asked. 

Sometimes it feels as though Dad invades Dean and Sam’s family. Sam and Dean are a well oiled machine and can work together with scary efficiency. They grew up to fill each other’s weaknesses so instead of two flawed and broken people, there is one puzzle. Throughout their childhood they fractured and used pieces of each other to keep them upright. Therapists would call them codependent. Sam would call them surviving.

——  
Dean also liked to give Sam advice.The strange thing is that when Dean gave the exact same piece of advice as Dad, Sam will actually listen. 

Maybe it is because Dean will let Sam ask questions. Or maybe it is because Dean seems to speak through experience. Or maybe it is because it sounds like more of a strong suggestion rather than a command. Or maybe he doesn’t carry the salt ready to make Sam’s vulnerabilities burn.

“Don’t talk to strangers, Sammy.”

“Why? That doesn’t make any sense.Then how do you get to know them? Then won’t everyone be a stranger?”

“Alright, how about this Know-It-All, don’t trust strangers. No matter how trustworthy they seem, don’t trust them with your or your family’s information. Do some small talk or even lie, but don’t give away your heart and everything close to it. Sammy, humans are worse than monsters, and will use your trust against you.”

“Okay.”

——-  
That was a game changer for Sam, it was the only reason he was so good with people, he could talk with them for hours on end and they wouldn’t get anything personal on him. But he could milk every bit of information out of them. Talk but don’t trust strangers.

The sad thing is that everyone but Dean became a stranger. He was almost never open with anymore, there was always a wall. He was close with Jess, but he couldn’t trust her. Not with his heart, and besides, who would want his black and fractured heart. He was working on breaking down those walls right before she died, because she wanted to love him. And she was the closest to getting to his core.

Jess was realizing how touch starved he was. How she could just cuddle with him and that would sometimes make him more content than sex. Jess saw the scars and occasionally he would tell her what one was from (never from something supernatural). Jess realized that he was secretly a religious man, but hid it to avoid criticism, so she looked up the nearest church and they went weekly. It seemed to stabilize Sam, gave him more faith in himself, on God, and on humanity. Jess also helped him through panic attacks and nightmares alike. She never asked, but always was there to cuddle him and give him skin to skin contact.

She loved him. He almost trusted her with his heart. But she went up in flames, she died not knowing that he planned on telling her within the month and proposing if she accepted who he was. What he was broken and molded into

She died not even knowing why she died in such a painful fucking way. She died knowing him but never knowing him.

Sometimes Sam didn’t even think Dean knew the real him.  
——  
Sam and Jess were curled together on their bed. Sam was absentmindedly playing with Jess’s shiny golden hair while Jess drummed her fingers against Sam’ chest.

“Sam, have you ever thought about getting help.”

Sam’s eyes snapped over to Jess, an uneasy expression taking over his face. “What do you mean?”

Jess huffed in frustration,”I know you don’t want to talk to me about whatever has happened to you, but you should open up to someone.” At this her eyes started to tear up. “Sweetheart, I just hate how much you are torn up over whatever has happened. And if you think you can’t tell me, then you need to find someone. You can’t bottle all that past shit up. It will tear you apart eventually.”

Sam’s face twisted in a mix between concern and shame. “Jess, honey, I wish I could. Mostly because it would make you feel better. But I can’t trust some stranger over my life. Even if I probably do need help.” His breaths hitched. “Jessica, believe me, I want to tell you about my past, but I am scared. I know that is stupid. But Honey, I can’t lose you.” Sam’s tone started to sound almost, pleading.

At this Jess’s face fell. “I expected that. I just want you to feel the best you can.”

Sam reached a hand to cup at Jessica’s face, lifting it to make eye contact. He looked overwhelmed, but was beseeching her to understand. “Honey, being with you has improved my life more then you could believe. You going to sleep with me, and waking up with me, and you helping me through nightmares? I will be forever grateful. You silence my fears and insecurities, you make me feel human. You make me want to be a better version of myself. This is not anything other than my fucked up head and my monumental trust issues.” At this Sam leans his forehead against his girlfriend’s. “You make me so unbelievably happy.”

Sam and Jess stare into each other’s watering eyes. Both simultaneously start grinning in the silence of their apartment, Jess letting out some giggles. Sam stares with something akin to awe while planting a soft kiss to the top of her head. Breathing into her golden locks. Hoping he would never have to let go of this wonderful woman who stole his heart, and started to mend the fractures.

——  
Sam was alone. 

No more were the nights of chubby hands wrapped around wrists. No more were nights of flashcards and fake verbal jabs. No more were the nights of arguments with salt waiting in hand.

Sam was alone.

No more Jess. Her beautiful smile. Jess, who somehow loved a man who kept secrets and had obvious issues. Who made a broken man a home, and made said man want to be worthy of such a amazing person’s love. Who tried to get him to get help. Beautiful, wonderful Jessica who could be no where but heaven. Sam wondered if any of her best memories contained Sam. He hoped so, so that even a fake part of him got to be near her. But he also hoped she stayed far away from any version of his tainted self.

Sam was alone.

His skin stretched, ached, itched for touch. Any type, be it fists bruising his abdomen or kiss brushing his lips. But what Sam truly desired was a hug. And not from anyone, but from Dean. Sam wanted to melt into his big brother’s arms and sob. He wanted to cry into his brother’s shoulder like the pathetic human he is. Sam wanted to apologize to his brother when no words could ever help heal the hurt he has caused not only his brother, but the world. He wanted comfort when he deserved none.

Sam was alone.

He hated himself for being so weak. He was pathetic and loathed himself to a point that was frankly terrifying. He was a blood sucking freak monster that needed to be put down. But he can’t do what needs to be done, all because even though Dean may want him dead or out of the way, he has a job to do. To try to somehow balance the lives he has taken with those saved. Impossible, but worth it, because he doesn’t deserve the quick peace that comes with death. Even if he is going to Hell, he is a scared little bitch that doesn’t want to be punished for the crimes he has committed. He was scared of Hell because he saw what it did to his perfect brother.

Sam was alone.

Dean must hate him. For everything Sam has put him through, he must hate Sam. Dean must hate how they built themselves as kids, propping each other up and holding each other’s pieces in placed. They can’t do that anymore. There is no trust. They are both on the floor shattered, neither knowing how to be whole without the other brother. Dean must hate him because Sam can’t bring himself to try to help. Why help Dean when he was probably better shattered than touching someone so tainted with evil and who is obviously a monster? 

Sam was alone.

Nights consumed of nightmares, of his stint in The Cage, being stuck in body with no control, the dark thirst for that metallic milk he was fed as a baby, flames licking at someone who he was sososososoclose to trusting. But the most prominent is the green eyes with pupils blown out signifying death.

Sam was alone.

He was the literal meatsuit of the Devil. He was made specifically the Father of Sin. The Fallen Angel that God himself cast away. Sam was the Vessel of the worst monster the Winchesters have ever encountered. Other than Lucifer creating demons, how different are Sam and Lucifer’s stories? Sam thought there weren’t many, but Dean seemed to think there was some sliver of good in Sam. So Sam held out.

Sam was alone.

Sam tried taking prescription strength sleep medication, but it only made him groggy. Sam tried demon blood, but looked where that fucking got him. Sam tried drinking, but he couldn’t stand the hangovers. The only thing that worked was when he put a bullet in his racing brain, but then Lucifer caught on and only brought him back more tired. So Sam was stuck living a life he didn’t want, but he deserves it. Because wasn’t he a monster?

Sam was alone.

Sam was scared.

Sam Winchester wished he never existed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction. Please give me as much criticism as you can. I want to improve. I am a huge Sam girl and I hope I have given one of my favorite fictional characters justice. And side note, I hope I didn’t demonize John Winchester that much.


End file.
